Chiffon
by Bella Duveen79
Summary: Sheldon's thoughts on the memory of Amy's Prom dress underneath his fingers that night...One Shot.


**Chiffon**

Galveston, May 1998

'It's _chiffon_…' Missy had announced, twittering on pointlessly about the dress she was wearing to her Prom. His too, technically, had he deigned to set foot in the place. Just because he would have been there still, had his superior mind not been his ticket out years ago, they'd felt the need to extend an invitation. Obviously they just wanted the glory of his presence…

Well, they weren't getting it, Sheldon decided, burying his head in calculus and trying to ignore his twin, now swishing around the room to the excited clamour of his mother and Meemaw. How anyone could get so crazy about this ridiculous event was beyond him…he wasn't going to Prom – not now, not ever!

Pasadena, November 2014

Sheldon had never expected his Prom would be like that…Thoughts of the evening just past rushed through his head as he lay in his darkened room. Sleep was impossible, as all his attention centred on the woman in blue he'd held in his arms that night under twinkling stars, high above the city below, the woman he'd kissed, when everyone else had gone. His lips tingled at the memory of that evening, forever a part of him, and one he so nearly never had.

There had been so much pressure just before. It was almost unbearable, even before he'd seen her, and when he had, Penny and Leonard's comments had been the straws that broke the camel's back. They didn't know, of course, the decision he'd come to recently, or how hard that was. Leonard would never have said what he did if he knew just how far it was from the truth. Penny might suspect, considering the alien conversation they had, but could never know the turmoil he was in. Even so, he'd made up his mind – in theory, at least. It was a Prom tradition, and if Amy wanted it, they would do it. People did it all the time. It would be fine, as he'd told himself repeatedly as he and Leonard were getting ready to go.

Theory and practice however, were two very different things. Just one look at his beautiful girlfriend, her curves alternately swathed and accentuated in soft blue, hair slightly wavy about her shoulders, was too much. The combination of wanting to kiss her, take her back to his room there and then, and wanting to run from everyone's winks and expectations was intolerable. Panic rose inside him and he sharply wrenched his gaze from Amy's and fled. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it, and he'd ruin the evening that meant so much to her. He probably had already.

She came after him though, asking what was wrong. Sheldon found it hard to lie to anyone, least of all her, so he confessed his fears, and felt such a profound relief when she understood. Looking down into her gentle, concerned eyes, he was surprised as they grew anxious, and suddenly knew what she meant to say. So he said it. It was easier than he could have ever imagined, because suddenly it all made sense. He loved her, too.

Amy had whispered it back to him later, when they kissed, lingering on someone else's landing to avoid being caught, like a couple of kids, and his cheeks glowed at the memory. Just before she'd left, he'd heard her low, sultry voice say his name and draw closer to him. It was like when they danced, but this was different. It was late, and they were alone.

She lifted her eyes to his, smiled, and held his gaze. 'Thank you. For everything.'

Feeling himself grow hot, Sheldon couldn't answer just then. He unconsciously ran a finger down the seam of her dress, just below her hips to where it fell away to the floor. In doing so, he felt the swooping, tumbling sensation inside that he'd come to associate with Amy, but until recently had been determined not to name. Nevertheless, too much evidence had stacked up, and what it meant was as undeniable as any mathematical law.

'You're welcome,' he managed, as the edges of his vision seemed to blur slightly. 'Amy?'

'Yeah?'

'Penny didn't put anything else in that punch?'

'No.' She'd tentatively moved a hand up to his sleeve and mirrored the gentle tracing his own fingers were making.

'Oh…then that's not it…then the only variable is you.'

'Variable?' Amy asked, a slight smile touching her face.

'Yes…I always thought blurred vision and an elevated pulse were in direct correlation to alcohol consumed…'

'Not always.' She pushed closer, and the warmth of her body spread over him, making him hotter still. One hand found its way on to her arm. Amy shivered as she felt his touch, and Sheldon's other hand, still on her dress, clenched the soft material into his fist. _Chiffon... like Missy's that time…? _Missy had ended up throwing up over hers by the time she came home, thanks to her friend Tania's 'party shots' and Sheldon couldn't bear thinking of it possibly contaminating his own clothes if she took it into her head to try washing it at home, so demanded his mother take it to be cleaned the very next day. He remembered how it had felt, but never expected to associate it with _this_...

His breath was growing faster now, just lying there. Stroking the sheets lightly, then grabbed a handful like he had earlier, and closed his eyes, unable to hold back the moan that escaped as he did so. He pulled the sheet closer, like he'd pulled at her skirt, as his other hand had slid over her arm and down to her waist.

'Oh, Sheldon…' She sounded breathless, overwhelmed, but made no move to pull back. The heat under her dress was palpable. Only hours ago, he'd told her he loved her. Now it was her turn to answer. Raising her gaze once more, Amy's eyes shone behind her glasses. He tried to hold it as he had before, but the increasing rise and fall of her newly exposed cleavage made that difficult. His eyes snapped up though, as he heard it, almost as a whisper in his ear. 'I love you.'

She'd lifted her lips to his then, as the heat and swirling sensation intensified, and their softness touched his own, smooth, naked and warm. Remembering her kiss, Sheldon's hand slowly unclenched the sheet, and slowly traced its way up, then slid under. He couldn't have stopped it if he tried, letting it stroke down his chest until his fingertips touched the very top of his thigh. His skin felt warm through his pyjamas, and he was more than aware of how tight they were. The taut material invited further exploration, if only to ease the almost painful tension behind it.

_She loves me…_Sheldon told himself, in both confirmation and justification. _She loves me, so it's OK…_Strange how her words both helped and pushed so much. Sliding his fingers under his waistband now, he freed himself from any constraint. Moaning as he let them run down now hard, slightly sticky skin, Sheldon imagined feeling the crush of chiffon against him as her touch caressed him as he had the seam of her dress. Amy was with him, her breasts still contained, but straining at the folds of fabric encasing her. He noticed them – even if no-one thought he did – no matter what she wore, but knowing that they were that beautiful fuelled a fantasy like no other.

His breath grew sharp and shallow as his hand curled into a fist around himself, mirroring his earlier action holding Amy's dress. Long strokes, slow at first, then harder, faster, more. He twitched and stiffened further under his touch, his pulse racing as thoughts of her working him seared their way in and flooded his mind. Soon the tension was unbearable, but at the same time Sheldon didn't want it to stop. One stray image of Amy's dress slipping from her shoulders to reveal that elusive leopard print bra she didn't think he knew about was all it took, for that tension to burst forth from him in an explosion of release.

Shaking, his breath ragged, the warm, sleepy contentment that washed through him was almost enough to ignore the rapidly cooling lava that was sinking into his sheets and dripping from his skin…but not quite. Pulling himself up out of bed to clean up, in spite of himself, Sheldon smiled. _She was worth it…Vixen…_


End file.
